


Stories of the Second Self: Balance of Power

by John_Steiner



Series: Alter Idem [36]
Category: National Guard - Fandom, The Lord of the Rings (Movies), Urban Fantasy - Fandom, lockdown - Fandom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-02
Updated: 2020-02-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:41:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22521928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/John_Steiner/pseuds/John_Steiner
Summary: Jerrod Connor's unit, the Ohio 37th is tied down into an intense firefight with werewolf street packs and religious fundamentals bent on purging supernatural Pentacastes from Silverton, Cincinnati during the federal occupation. However, they find unlikely allies led by someone dressed up as the Witch King of Angmar, from Lord of the Rings, magic flaming sword included.
Series: Alter Idem [36]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1618813





	Stories of the Second Self: Balance of Power

"Jerrod get up!" it sounded like David's voice, but from a distance.

He cracked open his eyes to see snow in his face. Then, he started jostling in time with another voice, maybe Leonard. "Jerrod!"

Lifting his head a little, Jerrod saw a large, circular, dark spot off in the distance. "What's that?"

"One of the fuckin' fundies blew himself up," Leonard yelled over the sounds of gunfire only now registering. "Took out several howlers who tried to maul him."

"Where's my rifle?" Jerrod's hand absently groped through the snow.

Then, he felt it shoved into his hands.

"Can you shoot?" he heard Tanner ask.

"Yeah," Jerrod replied, shaking his head that he felt clearing up.

"Shit!" it was David, but not sounding far away anymore. "Fundies are setting up their mortar again!"

David fired off several rounds, and Jerrod turned to see the three guys in civilian winter clothes drop what they were doing to duck down.

"Jerrod, we could use a forty mike-mike right about now," Leonard warned.

Jerrod forced himself up, and then realized all the granular gray dust and specs were from a shattered wall nearby. The mortar team must've hit near Jerrod's position and he was knocked out.

With help from Leonard, Jerrod crawled over to a new position of cover and propped his rifle on a low brick wall. He lined up the three guys trying to set up the mortar, and then Jerrod squeezed the trigger that was in front of the rifle magazine.

It was starting to come back to him, when the forty millimeter grenade launcher made a hollow pop in firing. Jerrod remembered that the discovery of the coffin led the platoon into Daniel Drake Park in the Silverton District of Cincinnati.

A street gang calling itself Ridgewood Pack had extended its territory into Silverton, while religious fundamentalists within the city and from outside banded together to purge all the supernaturals. They had decided that forcing a supernatural into proper burial, dead or alive, was the only way to save their souls.

It was a fight with no good guys, and one more force of darkness was on the way.

"The fuck is that?" Leonard called out, his expression agape.

Several people came out from the cover of trees, some trotting between points of cover, others just strolling boldly. In the middle were two rather buff looking angels and someone draped in heavy robes, iron crown, and gauntlets to match. Two large steel plates floated at the sides of the robed figure, who had a sheathed sword and a huge morning star.

Jerrod looked to the west. "Sun's setting. Could be anybody now."

"Is that guy fuckin' serious?" Tanner scoffed, "His ass is gonna get wrecked by the fundies' guns or by Ridgewood Pack."

In contrast to Tanner's point, Jerrod saw more than a dozen of werewolves, all turned to their lupine forms, rushing the three people in the middle. The rest of the advancing line started firing on fundamentalist militia positions, heedless of the fact werewolves were about to hit the middle of their line.

The robed figure drew the sword, which immediately went ablaze with fire around the blade. However, that massive morning star, that was right out of a movie, struck first. It sent three werewolves hurling back, and the sword lashed out to leaving a burning gash into a fourth.

The levitating plates around the Witch King Apparent moved around to deflect gunfire, letting the robed movie icon, brought to life, go all ham on the werewolves. Even the screech with each swing of the morning star made Jerrod think that a hobbit might jump out any second now and stab the supposed Witch King in the leg. He'd have hoped for a wizard, but Jerrod knew his luck was never that good.

The two angels at the Witch King's sides each carried a pair of colt .45 revolvers with barrel lengths that Jerrod thought might've been twelve inches. Firing infrequently, the angelic pair picked their shots and never seemed to miss. On occasion, an angel had to bring up their wings like a boxer's defensive posture, which saved them from taking a bullet in turn.

A few more strokes by the Witch King cosplayer-from-hell had the Ridgewood howlers running or limping. He trotted after one werewolf not moving fast enough for his liking, and cleaved the pack member's head off clean, kicking the instantly limp body more than ten feet away.

After another minute, the firefight subsided with Jerrod seeing the remaining fundamentalists fleeing and this new group's shooters going after them. The robed figure and his body guard, however, strode over to where the platoon was.

"Hold your fire!" it was Captain Gonzales shouting the order.

Gonzales stood up and shouldered his weapon to walk toward the over-dramatic finisher of the fight. "Captain Miguel Gonzales, Ohio National Guard. I need you to identify yourself."

"Silverton is mine! The age of man is over!" it was a voice of death whispering like a strong gale. "The age of the orc has come!"

"There are no orcs," Gonzales replied, shaking his head.

"Hold ma shit!" answered an entirely different and more human tone.

The Witch King character released both the morning star and sword, which floated in air where he left them. Next, he snatched off the iron crown and flipped back the hood. Under that was a mirror-surfaced mask that he slid up to the top of his head.

Being a werewolf himself, Jerrod's visual acuity allowed him pick out the collar of the business suit and shirt that contrasted with the gold-capped dreadlocks adorning the black man's head.

His eyes were solid black, like obsidian or crude oil, and he revealed a mouth full of sharp teeth when speaking, "What do you mean, no orcs? That can't be right. Maybe it's just they aren't around here."

"Look," Gonzales explained, "I've done missions from one end of this state to the other and back again. I'm tellin' ya there're no orcs."

The dreadlocks Witch King's light friendly voice tweaked Jerrod's sense of things. "Well, that's disappointing. With everybody else coming out as who they are, I was sure we'd get orcs. Aren't you disappointed?"

The Witch King guy had turned and pointed to one of the angel goons at his side, who replied, "Yeah, Papa Henry, it's a tragedy."

"We sorta got elves," the second angel added, "but not quite. But hey, Papa Henry, you got giants now. That's gotta count for somethin'. Maybe have one do himself up to look like a troll, 'ya know from the first three movies. The later CGI ones are too goofy."

"True, true," the guy now known to be Papa Henry agreed, running his steel covered fingers over his chin. "I was really hoping for orcs, though."

Captain Gonzales looked around with a face of bewilderment, that the gunslinger angels and Lord of the Rings villain had stopped registering his presence. "Anyway, I need you guys to clear the street. We got our hands full with these crusader types and rogue werewolf packs."

"I think we can come to an arrangement," Papa Henry's bright chipper tone proposed, "You let me handle Silverton and you work the surrounding hoods."

"Wait, I... I can't authorized that," Gonzales protested, holding his hand up to the cosplaying vampire.

"Do you have superiors you can call?" Papa Henry asked.

"Zane," Gonzales called back, "Get Command on the line!"

After a moment, Zane trotted out with the shortwave radio and handed the handset over to Gonzales, who spoke into it. "Sir, we've got an issue here that needs a higher pay grade to settle. There's an individual here named Papa Henry offering to assist in restoring order, of sorts-- Yes sir, he just took out a bunch of street pack members and his guys sent the purists runnin'. That's right, he approached us peacefully-- He says he just wants to handle Silverton, but sir...."

Gonzales reacted as if he'd been interrupted, and then handed the handset over to Papa Henry. "Ah, you're a colonel? Good! See, I think we can come to an arrangement here, one that I'd like to see forwarded to civilian law enforcement once the city government is restored. In return, I can promise to rein in those individuals less respectful toward badges."

"Is he like a mob boss?" Leonard asked, after scooting over to Jerrod.

"I think so," Jerrod replied, then studied the floating weapons and plates around the vampire. "Though maybe something a little more severe than that."

"Certainly," Papa Henry spoke again, "he's right here," and then passed the radio handset back to Gonzales, "It's for you, Miguel."

"You sure about this?" an uncertain Captain Gonzales asked, "I understand that, sir, but there are some implications here-- Like, who I think we're dealing with.. sorry sir, yes... I do appreciate his help, just I thought you should be aware of the full scope of his offer-- Yes sir, I'll see that it's done."

"I'm glad that's settled," Papa Henry's unsettling cheer beamed.

"Looks like we have an understanding," Gonzales said, offering a tentative hand. "The law enforcement issue isn't one we can’t guarantee, but a recommendation can be made to the city council when authority is returned."

"Doesn't hurt to try," Papa Henry answered, and then pulled his hood over and put the iron crown back on.

Reacquiring his close quarters weapons, Papa Henry turned back the way he came. His crew of street enforcers followed without need of prompting, and the whole group disappeared back into the trees, as night fell.


End file.
